Practicing

I was asked to write something in honor of Jack’s 5th Birthday and Angelversary for the July/Aug MISS Foundation Newsletter and it’s due TODAY! I haven’t “written” anything for a very long time and have been struggling to even type a letter or two until now. I always thought my writers block that hit about 2-3 years ago was caused by my Grief Brain. But recently I attended a MISS workshop “Poetry UnSlam” that Kara and Hawk Jones of KOTA PRESS and Mother Henna facilitated about the basics of poetry writing. Writing is a Grief Tool. It helps to clear your mind of all the craziness that swims around in our brains throughout the day. A lot of people find writing in a journal before bed helps them fall asleep easier. For me, writing is how I express my emotions, thoughts, fears…release the CRAZY if you will, temporarily at least. Without being able to release the “crazy”, it’s all just bouncing around in my brain like thousands of kernels popping in the Jiffy Pop pan over the stove, yet my skull isn’t made of tin foil.

During the workshop I really struggled to participate in the writing activities, that damn Block was hanging over my head like a Dementor from Harry Potter sucking the life out of me. But after the workshop and for the following three days, I processed the information we were given and the keyword Kara used was “practicing”. Instead of writing poetry or stories, she practices. That word repeated itself in my brain over and over and finally it struck me. I don’t have to write I can just practice. I don’t know why I’m such a perfectionist when it comes to my writing, poetry, crochet, photography or anything I do creatively. I’m not a perfectionist when it comes to my everyday life so why my art? It’s Bizarre!

I also learned something else, something big. This other revelation I had was that it’s not writers block that plagues me. I spent four years after Jack died doing everything I could to not feel, to not think, to zombie out to escape that pain, that I’m too good at it now. I’ve learned over the last 9 months that I don’t trust myself to let those feelings out because I don’t know if I can control them. I don’t know if I will be able to stop crying, to see the light shinning on the ladder in my deep dark hole I fall into so easily. The MISS Foundation showed me that there is light in there, they provided me the “ladder” to climb out of that dark hole. I thought I was doing so well in group, but the last several groups I haven’t talked much, about me, about Jack. I’ve supported others, but at some point I stopped sharing. Apparently because the wall I’ve built around me, to protect my feelings, my sanity, is so strong now, I’m not sure how to break through it anymore.

I thought by helping others, supporting others, I was helping myself. It made me feel good again. Jack and I were conquering the world and it made me so Proud to be his Mom! But I got lost in there somewhere. Even now as I write this, that lump in my throat is growing into a bowling ball and my sore red eyes burn because if I let that one tear fall, the control is gone. Why won’t I just let it fall?

So here it is, my first step towards finding a crack in that Wall, one chip at a time.

Day Fright or Depression?

I once shared on my blog that while driving, I picture myself crashing into telephone poles, other cars, buildings, into ravines and over cliffs. Most recently my mind is going through the motions of all sorts of crazy shit. Today I was sitting on my back patio smoking and thought, I can't wait for it to stop raining so I can take the dogs for a walk, then my mind jumped to taking them into Petsmart for now and Jimi possibly going ape shit and barking out of control, then flash back to walking down the street and having a big dog come running to eat my precious babies....would I swoop up Mazzy or Jimi first? My brain immediately went to Mazzy. Does this mean I love her more? Or is it because I've had to swoop her up to save her life a couple times before? Or is it because she is more scared of other dogs then Jimi? Then I felt horrible that I would put Jimi second, because she's such a lover. I would miss her belly flop-roll over-rub my belly move the most. My eyes began to well up thinking of losing either one of them. I told my brain to STOP! I don't want to see these horrific scenes play out in my head. But it WINS and the thought of losing Jory pushes me over the edge and tears began to fall.

This happens all the time, not just when I'm driving. I've pictured myself getting my teeth knocked out, legs cut off, stabbed in the heart and shot in the head to name a few. These things play out in my head almost like a movie except that I feel it as it happens, but it's never as painful as I would imagine. It's like I'm dreaming but I'm fully awake. I wonder if this is related to the Night Fright I had growing up or if it's part of depression?

Does this happen to you?